Tumblr Fic Drabbles - USUK
by Well39
Summary: Short requests from tumblr. Each story is a stand-alone.


A very close friend was having a very bad day, and asked for something with Rachel Platten's 'Fight Song'

I do not own the song (or the characters, but that's kinda duh)

* * *

Alfred sat in the corner of the diner, away from the window. It wasn't his usual spot, but he didn't feel like watching the world pass by today.

Not today.

The sound of the radio drifted though the chatter of the other customers and the banging from the kitchen. All of this was background noise to him as he wrapped his hands around his mug, staring into the warm brown liquid, and traced the ripples with his eyes.

He was tired. He hadn't slept in days, sure, but it wasn't just that. It was the bone-achingly dense, cloudy-headed, sunk-into-your skin kind of tired. He was exhausted, nothing made sense, and his head felt light as a feather on his neck.

He felt like a boat set to drift at sea. Lost. Small. Spinning out of control more and more with each action he took.

The music coming over the radio switched, and Alfred tightened his grip on his mug. It was a generic, feel-good pop song. The kind of thing he usually scoffed at. His nose stung, and he removed his glasses to scrub at his eyes.

God, what was he doing? He was stronger than this.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he tipped his head back and let the music wash over him.

He was humming before he realised it, tuneless and not caring. The smile felt unnatural and tight on his mouth. He smiled wider, just because he could.

He was stronger than this. He was strong.

He could do this.

The song ended, and his throat closed. There was an ache in his chest that he hadn't noticed before.

Leaning forward again, he grabbed the coffee and gulped it down in one, ignoring the way it scalded the inside of his mouth. The heat burned through him, and he was awake. He was awake, he was there, he could do this.

Taking a deep breath, he got up.

The walk to the door of the diner was easy, he told himself. One step in front of the other. Just one step, and then one more, and he was outside, the chill air hitting his cheeks. He laughed under his breath, and watched it mist before him.

He looked up.

The sky was wide and clear above him, buildings crowding in at the edges of his vision. The young trees planted along the pavement bent in the breeze, and he leaned into it, letting his coat fly open and the cold air penetrate his skin.

He laughed louder now, heedless of the way the tight feeling in his chest deepened.

He hummed on the way home, the song from the diner on an endless loop in his head.

"…my fight song," he sung to himself, the words slipping out. "Take back my life song. Prove I'm alright song…" and there, his voice caught. He kept on going. "I'll be strong-"

Not looking where he was going, he managed to run right into someone on the path. They tumbled to the ground in a tangle of limbs, Alfred instinctively putting a hand out to break the fall. Pain seared across his palm, and he winced.

"Watch where you're going, you bloody arse!"

Alfred froze at the British accent, and leaned back. "Arthur?"

The man stopped his tirade of curses and blinked. "Alfred?"

Alfred looked down at Arthur still trapped beneath him, all stunned eyes and messy hair, and felt a weight lift away. He didn't even realise he was crying until the first tear hit the back of his glasses.

"Al? _Al_?" Arthur's panicked words only made him smile through his tears. "Are you okay, did you hurt yourself? Oh god, your _hand_."

"I'm okay," Alfred told him. He said it again, because it didn't feel like a lie now. "I'm okay."

Arthur studied him for a moment, concern etched into his features. Alfred didn't resist when he felt himself pulled down onto Arthur's chest, and let his face fall onto his shirt. Arthur's hands were awkward and gentle as he stroked his hair.

They didn't speak.

When Alfred finally pulled away, it was with a proper grin. His cheeks were wet, eye's puffy, and for the first time in a long time, his chest was light.

He could do this.

"You're okay?" Arthur asked, because they were still lying there, in the middle of the footpath, with people shooting them both looks as they navigated around them.

Alfred nodded, and rolled to the side, letting Arthur stand. He reached down a hand and pulled Alfred to his feet, dusting him off with brisk movements. Once that was done, he took Alfred by the shoulders and looked him straight in the eye.

"You are coming with me," he said, in a tone that brooked no argument, "and we are going to talk. You are going to talk to me."

And Alfred nodded again, because right at that moment, nothing sounded better. He followed Arthur when he began to walk, and somewhere along the way, started humming again.

"…cause I've still got a lot of fight left in me."

This time, when he smiled, it was real.


End file.
